What Could Have Been
by lock-n-key
Summary: Gillian reflects on her relationship with Cal and the secrets they've kept.  Ongoing; depending on where it ends up, the title might change.
1. Chapter 1

You've left me to clean up your mess so many times I've lost count. Most people would show appreciation, but you're not like most people. You've never depended on anyone but yourself and you're too proud to give the appearance of starting to now. If I were to confront you about it, you'd try to shrug it off and tell me that you never asked me to. You may not say it with words, but your eyes would. It's true, you never did, and you never will.

Even so I wish you could just understand why I can't pretend not to care and leave the broken pieces lying there on the ground. That it doesn't hurt when I step over them, because I love you too much to watch you lie in the bed you make. I'll admit that when it comes to all these feelings I try to push back down deep inside of me I have nobody to blame but myself, because you never asked me to love you, either. But I do, and I will.

When we started this business, we were filled with hope. You felt as if you might be able to atone for some of the guilt by helping others with your science, or at least distract yourself with it. I thought that with enough time I might be able to help you heal. That was my job as a psychologist; as a friend, right? Neither one of us was naive, but we needed to believe, and chose to blind ourselves from reality. And here we are now, eight years later, not that much better off for it all.

This time you've left me too weary to fight back and I need distance. Our office is on the top floor, but adjacent to the law office below us there's an extra room we rent out that I've visited many times before. I make my way down, flip on the switch, and squint as florescent lighting washes over it. It revives my memories. To anyone else, it looks like a normal conference room with a table and chairs. Only you and I know that the table a relic left over from when we first opened up shop in a tiny, two-room office downtown.

I let my mind wander for a moment on the chairs and where they came from. I don't remember, but it doesn't matter; only the table does. We didn't know then that it would come between our marriages, draw a line between us, and cause us to keep our distance. That in our own separate ways, we would each pay the price. No, we didn't know any of that when we made love on this table that night so many years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

I sit down in the nearest chair from where I stand and prop my elbows on the table, letting my head rest in the palms of my hands. The memory begins to play out in my mind like a disjointed film.

* * *

><p>It's evening, not even half a year since moving into the office. I'm still in the process of learning the science, and you're testing me on facial expressions using a simple program on your laptop. You should be at home with her, reconciling one of the fights you've been having lately. Instead you use the office as an excuse, and I can tell you've had a drink or two.<p>

For the first time, I answer everything correctly. You saunter over to where I sit, hovering over me. I can feel your eyes travel across my body, and you open your mouth to ask me one final question. "And what expression do you see now?"

I recognize it immediately, but I hesitate to answer.

From the very first day we met at the Pentagon, I felt a spark between us. At the time I didn't think much of it; my only job was only to provide a simple evaluation of your mental state. Except it hadn't turned out to be that simple. The more I got to know you, the closer we became. It was the first of only two times I ever let the boundaries between doctor and patient become blurred. When you inevitably handed in your resignation, you asked me to be a partner in your plans for a new business, and I eventually agreed. The deeper the tides of our friendship began to run, the greater the tension that rose. The mutual attraction between us was getting harder and harder to ignore.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Well, Foster?" you ask again.

Meeting your challenge I stand up to you, our faces now merely inches apart. Looking you straight in the eye, I answer you with one word. "Arousal."

Your lips come crashing down onto mine, and the force causes me to stumble backwards. I reach one hand behind me to steady myself. Your mouth tastes like scotch and I can't resist wanting more. In the back of my mind I know we shouldn't be doing this, but right now I can't keep playing the good doctor. So instead, I choose to relent and give myself to you.

Suddenly I feel your hands all over my body, and I can almost hear my name heavy on your breath. Your fingers quickly move to undo the buttons of my blouse. Once you've accomplished the task, your hands reach out to knead the mounds of flesh under it, and I moan at your touch. You discard the article altogether as you push me back, pinning me on top of the table. I feel its coldness and hardness beneath me, a stark contrast to the burning sensation everywhere else. I tell myself that I want this and that I need this, even though we both know it won't and can't last beyond the heat of the moment. There's the slow hum of the air conditioner in the background that the sound of our pleasure soon drowns out. I can't get enough of your contact, and I'm practically begging you to take me, which you do. I cry out as we rise and fall together, and not much time elapses before our passion peaks and you finish inside of me.

Our breath is ragged as we try to regain our composure. When our eyes meet, I catch a glimpse of myself and a powerful emotion I can't put a name to staring back at me. Surely my own eyes are mirroring the same sentiment. Silently we redress, gather our belongings, and return to our respective homes. For some days- even weeks, we don't dare discuss what happened aloud, but it wasn't long before the poison set in.

* * *

><p>I shift my thoughts to how Alec and I had been trying to conceive for years, but how nothing had seemed to work. I knew his disappointment over not being able to provide him with a family, and I started to feel inadequate as a woman. When I found out I was pregnant, I thought it was a sign that things would be okay and we would be able to work things out, but I was so wrong and my pregnancy never made it full term. After that, the doctors told me I wouldn't be able to have any more children, and the word regret didn't even begin to cover how I felt.<p>

As for you, from a purely clinical point of view, I think you kept trying to find deceit in Zoe to make yourself feel better about your own betrayal. She grew more and more impatient with you reading and questioning her every motive, and I remember one night in particular where I got a call from you out of the blue at 2:00 a.m. You said she had just up and walked out, leaving Emily in your care. You told me that you loved her and that you wanted her back, but that you felt lost. Then you confessed that you couldn't stand to see the emotion written on my face when we were together and that it was driving you crazy, because you still harbored feelings for me, too.

Foolishly, I suggested that we draw a line between us. One that would no longer allow us to read or question each other's personal thoughts. One that would let us bury everything within our hearts for the sake of our professional relationship and faltering marriages. I didn't want to lose you, so what else could I do? With some deliberation, you consented to the idea. The line still exists between us even now, but we've tread dangerously close to it over the past year or so.

Though the two of you returned to and left one another many times after that, we both know that first night was the fatal blow.

The invention of the line killed everything else our infidelity hadn't. Keeping up the mask drained me until I was completely empty; until I felt as if I were only going through the motions. In turn, I severed myself emotionally from Alec, and he coped with it by turning to cocaine.

You and I, we did more than just damage ourselves.


	3. Chapter 3

It's then that I hear your footsteps coming down the hall. I let out a sigh and steal a glance up at the clock. Five minutes until seven, it reads.

I can hear a light rap on the door, and then your scent fills the room as you step inside of it. You stare at my figure hunched over the table. Although you're aware of my retreats down here every now and then, this is the first time you've ever followed me.

"Gillian...," you call out to me, and I turn my head towards you.

"What Cal?" I reply, a little exasperated from reliving it all again.

"You can't keep coming here, love; it's not healthy," you reason. As I'm thinking about how to respond you add, "I'm sorry, for...," and then pause.

I can tell it's sincere. I wasn't expecting an apology, but considering where we are it leads me to ask, "For what? Back then or today?"

At the verbal reminder of our unspoken history, a microexpression of surprise appears on your face, but you quickly conceal it. "For everything." There's no question that it always consciously dictates the dynamic between us, but neither one of us has brought up the topic to discuss for some time now.

"You don't have to apologize," I respond. "Everything in my own life has been a personal choice. I've never regretted anything besides losing the baby."

You scoot up a chair beside me, sit, and take one of my hands into your own. "I know," you reply softly. "You didn't deserve the miscarriage or what happened with Sophie. I can't speak for Alec, but you would have been a great mother, Gillian."

I feel my body tense up, and it doesn't go unnoticed by you. I look at you ashamed of myself, and take a deep breath. I don't want your pity over this anymore.

"I didn't have a miscarriage," I finally admit. It's the first time I've ever said it aloud. It doesn't make the shame disappear, but at least in admitting it, I feel like I've pulled a little bit of the weight piled up over the years off my chest. I can see the confusion in your eyes, and a combination of guilt and fear causes me to avert my line of vision downwards. I focus on a piece of lint on the floor, next to one of the table legs. You try to read me as you're prone to doing, and this time I don't make any protest.

"What do you mean, love?" you ask gently, with a certain amount of concern in your voice. Even without looking up, I can feel your gaze upon me.

A part of me wants to have this conversation because it's so long overdue. The other half is scared of what your reaction might be. I focus on the lint and try to let my mind go blank, until everything feels surreal and I can hear my own voice, even though it doesn't feel like the words are coming from own mouth.

"I had an abortion." The words hanging in the air around us, I'm sure this new revelation must come as a shock to you.

You give me time to elaborate and to go over it in your mind, but met with nothing, curiosity gets the better of you and you finally ask, "But Gillian... why?"

I close my eyes and I hear my voice speak up once more. "I wanted it, I really did. But Alec and I were such a mess, and you were in the middle of fixing things with Zoe... I felt conflicted to the point it was unbearable, and I couldn't go through with it."

You nod, listening. "But what's this got to do with Zoe and me?" Your tone turns cautious; it's a habit of yours when you don't fully comprehend something, but are unsure how to proceed.

I feel another sigh escape my lips, and I raise my head; I at least owe you that much with what I'm about to reveal next. I gather up all my courage and look at you with the same intensity I did all those years ago.

"Because, Cal... It was our baby."


	4. Chapter 4

A wave of disbelief, wonder, sadness, hurt, and disgust passes through your eyes, and I remain still, riding it out.

"Jesus Christ, how could you keep something like that from me?" I can feel your trust in me wavering in your voice. I haven't seen you question your faith in me like this since the incident with Doyle. I say nothing and do nothing, and my lack of response only serves to fuel your anger further.

"For six fucking years, Gillian?" you stress. I'm not sure if you're waiting for me to answer or you're just shouting in bewilderment.

"We've all had to make sacrifices, Cal. I did it for us," I reply as calmly as I can manage.

"That's a load of bollocks that is," you shoot back and your face hardens, and I can tell you're trying to close yourself off.

I fight to keep my tone even and ask, "Is it? Or is it just what you want to believe?"

"Don't you bloody well think I should have had some say in it?" you voice booms out and reverberates against the walls.

I flinch and my hands ball into a fists, the fabric of my dress bunching underneath them. "Please, I don't want to fight like this."

"Fucking hell, I don't believe this," you exclaim while spreading your arms out.

"You have the right to be upset with me, but this isn't going to bring our son back," I say through my teeth. I can almost feel your heart lurch at the words "our son", and you take a moment to gather yourself. Your eyes soften up a little, and I can sense your thoughts shifting.

"Is this why things with Alec...? Did he know?"

"Nobody knew." I look at you with remorse. "Look, Cal I… I'm not proud of what I did."

"God, Gillian." You hold your hand out as if to bring me closer, but still appearing bothered, let it drop to your side again.

"I understand this must be hard to take and I'm sorry I kept it from you for so long. We can keep talking about it if you'd like, but I don't want to do it here. Can we go some place more private?"

"Alright then. As you wish." You turn to exit first, and take one more glance back at me before leading the way. Your strides are bigger than my own footsteps, and the distance between us grows with each step. I fear the same will happen to our friendship- at least what's left of it, and I feel a tear roll down my cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

Under normal circumstances sitting on together the couch in your office usually offers a certain degree of comfort, but right now it feels the exact opposite. I'd rather we were in mine instead. I feel like a guest playing on the opposing team, all the while knowing full well the home team has an advantage.

I take notice of the gap between us, dividing the playing field. I wonder who will make the first move, even though it seems quite obvious with the positions already decided. You on the offense and I on the defense. Fair enough, considering I'm the one that sprung the lid on the Pandora's box we've kept shut until now.

"For the life of me, I still can't understand why Gillian…" you start. Your look conveys so much disappointment, sadness, and guilt. You're probably somehow finding a way to blame yourself. You always think I'm too good-natured to do anything rash without being forced into it. But even the great Cal Lightman is fallible to human nature. When it comes to your best friend, sometimes you ignore what's really there. It's never really been a secret that I'm your blind spot.

"What was I going to do? Raise a child with Alec without ever telling him the truth?" I ask you honestly. _ What would you have done in my position?_

I can see you contemplating it in your mind, trying to come up with a good response.

"It's not like I wanted to lie to you, but I knew you would've been against it. And I just couldn't…"

You open your mouth to interject, but I ignore it and keep going. "I couldn't raise our child in world of lies like that. If I'd told Alec, do you really think he would have just stayed? Do you think Zoe would have stayed? And what would have happened to Emily? I couldn't just consider what I wanted or what you would've wanted for me, Cal. I had to consider everyone else first."

"Little late for that, love. Everything went belly side up regardless." There's a small amount of pain in your voice that accompanies your off-hand comment.

"I couldn't have predicted that then. And neither could you have, had I have told you."

"It was all a mistake, Gillian- that night. A bloody huge mistake."

"Was it, Cal?" Although I don't trust your words completely, they still sting.

"I shoulda had more control than that."

"It's not your fault. I wanted it. I wanted you." _I still do._

"And there in lies the mistake, love. I shouldn't of let myself bring you down to my level."

I give a hollow laugh, and you look at me with interest, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Despite what you may think, you didn't tarnish me. You didn't persuade me into doing something I had reservations about. I made my choice on my own and you made yours. There's nothing else to it. Quit beating yourself up- it's not helping anything."

I can see your lack of faith in my words. "I've done a lot of utterly deplorable things in my life, but I'm not sure I can forgive myself over this one."

"Answer me truthfully," I say with some frustration. "Do you honestly regret being with me?"

You're fighting to keep your poker face up. It's not something I really have to ask, but I want to hear it from you just to have some kind of verbal proof. I need to hear it.

"Why are you asking me a question you already know the answer to?"

I don't reply, but let my eyes gently close for a few seconds before opening them again. You give a sigh in surrender.

"No, _Gillian_," you stress. "I wanted you more than I've ever wanted anything else. There's not one second of that night I didn't commit to memory so I could replay it over and over again in my mind. I still want you."

I was expecting a deflection or silence, but now I'm thrown off by your openness.

"Even after..?" I hesitate to ask.

"I don't know; it certainly changes things a bit, yeah? But I'm not sure you could do or say anything that would make me stop loving you."

_Love._ The word sounds foreign coming from your lips. Right now it frightens me more than it gives me relief. "So what do we do now?"

"The same thing we always do, Foster. Take it one day at a time and keep going." You smile at me again, but it isn't without a touch of heaviness. "C'mon, let's get you home. I think we've had enough talk for one day."

You walk me to the parking garage to make sure I'll be alright before sending me off. When I get home, I heat up some leftovers before changing into my nightclothes and getting ready for bed. I try not to focus too hard on any one thought. All I want is for sleep to come and give me release.

* * *

><p><em>I smile down at the happy infant in my arms, his grin breaking out into a giggle as he flails and waves hands in amusement. A hand from behind comes to rest on my shoulder, although I don't need to look up to know who it belongs to. It isn't a gesture out of comfort, but rather pride. My gaze doesn't falter on the little bundle of joy in my arms; love emanates out from his child-like laughter and fills the room. Looking into the brightness of his blue eyes I know there will never be another moment where I feel more complete. But then suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a loud noise stifles the laughter, and it gets louder and louder until the floor seems to be slipping out from beneath me and I feel like I'm falling...<em>

* * *

><p>Half-asleep, I realize it's all a dream and that the ringing sound I hear is the alarm going off. <em>No, I plead...<em> I squeeze my eyes shut in a weak attempt to hold on before reality floods in. _For just awhile longer, let me sleep beside what could have been..._


	6. Chapter 6

It takes me some time to drag myself out of bed. The dream I had just woken from combined with everything about yesterday stirred up enough feelings of melancholy to put a damper on my usual morning cheer.

Still, I needed to get to the office so I forced myself to rise and start in on my daily routine. I'm not a person who takes personal days off when something's bothering me. I like to escape into my work, and if I concentrate hard enough on the task before me I'm usually rewarded with freedom of mind from whatever it is nagging me. Besides that, I don't like to let personal weakness get the better of me.

Just as I'm about to leave the house, I feel the urge to go through one of my desk drawers. I place a small key I kept hidden in the lock and am met with a familiar click. After digging underneath a few take home files, my eyes settle on what I'm looking for. I take a quick peak inside the manila folder, unaware of the fact I've been holding my breath the entire time. I exhale and hold it to my chest, letting myself have a minute or two. At first I'd intended to return everything back to its proper place, but against my better judgment I tuck the folder into my purse, slip on a pair of heels, and head out the door.

On the way to work I stop at a convenience store for a slushie. Even on the worst days I try to give myself a few moments to indulge in something happy. My favorite is orange, with piña colada coming in as a close second, but today I decide on blue raspberry since I feel like it represents my actual mood better. I grab a morning snack and a salad for lunch, and walk over to the register to pay.

* * *

><p>At work I muster up all my energy and greet everyone with a smile. I know it won't be enough to fool you, but the image that I'm stable enough to put on airs is usually enough to keep you from outwardly vocalizing your concern. I stroll into my office, slushie in hand, and pull out the case files we'll be going over for the day. Unfortunately stacking them into a neat pile requires more than one hand, so I wait until I've finished the last few sips before moving on to the task. I can hear my cell phone vibrating in my purse, but the folder inside takes up too much space for me to retrieve it easily and I take it out, laying it out on the desk with the other files in order to take the call. As soon as I hang up, I hear a knock at the door and without giving me time to answer you swing it open, and I'm greeted by your slouched figure against the side of the doorway. I pretend I don't notice you studying me as you swagger in.<p>

"Morning, love."

"Good morning, Cal."

"You feelin' alright today?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

You cock your head sideways to examine my disposition, but whatever you find isn't enough to remark upon, so instead you change the subject to one of the client meetings we have scheduled today. It's rare for you to bring up appointment reminders, so I wonder if there's something I've missed.

"So I'll go ahead and bring the car around and meet you downstairs in 15, yeah?"

"Sure."

As we're driving down the road, I mentally scold myself for getting too distracted to remember to put the folder back in my purse, or anywhere else safer than laying out on my desk. A frown crosses my features and you catch me on it instantly.

"Everything okay, love?"

"I forgot something back at the office. Don't worry- it's not anything important," I lie. You seem satisfied enough with my explanation for the time being and don't press the issue any further.

* * *

><p>As soon as we return to the building, I rush into my office as quickly as I can without drawing attention to myself. My eyes roam over my desk, only to find the folder and the case files from this morning nowhere in sight.<p>

"Damn," I curse, and hurry off to find Loker or Torres. Surely one of them must have it their possession or know who does.

Just as I begin down the hall, out of the corner of my eye I see Loker approach you with what appears to be the same pile of documents from my office. _No, no, no…_

They change hands and I watch with a sickening feeling in my stomach as you turn over the unfamiliar folder before opening it to peer inside. Your eyes widen and then your face steels, and I immediately break into a sprint as fast as my heels will allow.

"Where did you get this?" I hear you ask in a gravelly voice.

"It was sitting on Dr. Foster's desk next to the other case files."

"Did you take a look at it?" the tone of your voice rising with each word.

"It didn't have a case number written on the tab so I figured maybe it was irrelevant to the case at hand and was hoping you could hand it back," comes Loker's nervous reply.

"Did you-" but he stops mid-sentence when he takes notice of me heading towards them at full speed.

Your surprise causes your hand holding the folder to tilt downward, the contents slipping out and dropping to the floor. I stop dead in my tracks, and a horrified look washes over my face as I stare down vacantly at the ultrasound sonogram now lying on the ground at your feet.


	7. Chapter 7

All eyes are on me. Loker turns his attention downward to study the black and white thermal image of a fetus. _My fetus_, I inwardly cringe. I doubt he misses my name and the date written in small letters across top. And you, without taking your eyes off of me, wordlessly reach down, pick it up, and place it back in the folder before holding your hand out for me to accept it.

"What's this all about?" Loker half inquires, half demands to know. As much as I admire his dedication to radical honesty, sometimes he just doesn't know when to stay out of it.

"None of _your _business," you shoot back, your voice dripping with irritation as you start to walk away. I warn Loker with a look of my own, and turn on my heel taking brisk strides back towards my office. I shut the door behind me.

Holing myself up for the rest of the day, I busy myself with some financial spreadsheets that need updating. As I'm sitting there keying in data my mind wanders to what a shame it is I've already satisfied my sugar craving for the day, because at this point I could really use the pick me up. Every now and then I steal a glance up at the clock, noting the new position of the two hands. By laying low I know I'm only putting off what can't be avoided, which comes about twenty minutes after Anna gives a tentative knock on my door, barely pushing it ajar to inform me she's leaving for the evening and that everyone else except for you and I have already headed out.

Unlike Anna and this morning, you don't knock the second time around. You emerge through the door giving it more of a shove than necessary, and it lets out a light bang as it comes into contact with the wall.

"So Foster...," you start in, "Are there any more secrets you'd like to fill me in on? As much as I love surprises, I'm not sure how many more of yours I can handle for one week."

"You weren't meant to see that," I reply automatically in defense as you stroll up to the desk and kick out a chair to sit in.

You sag into it, your legs spread apart using the arm to prop up an elbow. Your head comes to rest against one hand. "So you were going to keep it from me, then? I really have bloody underestimated you all these years."

The latter statement isn't entirely untrue, but we don't need to address it right now so instead I clarify my previous comment. "I didn't mean it that way. I was going to show it to you later when the time was right. I thought you had a right to see it."

You're still in the same position, a classic one you often pull that's full of half antagonization, half intrigue.

"I'd say that backfired then, wouldn't you?"

"I'd say so."

"Well, how about we start from scratch then? Let's have another look 'ere," you say as you shift upright, reaching out and beckoning with the hand you were leaning on.

I glance at your hand and then shift my eyes to meet your face before moving to retrieve the folder and cautiously place it in your outstretched palm.

You take another look at the sonogram and your eyes dart back and forth between me and the image displayed. "A bloody shame," you remark before folding the cover over and placing it back down on the desktop in between us.

"You know, I meant what I said last night," you change the subject.

You don't have to elaborate, because I know exactly what you're talking about. Even if it was only said in passing, you being that truthful was certainly nothing I meant to ignore. But given that particular moment, it would have been selfish of me to have acknowledged it.

"You remember the night I called you after she left the first time, yeah?"

I nod. _Of course I do. How could I forget?_

"Well, I never told you why she left. I mean, not in so much as the real reason why." You bring a hand up and run it through your hair before continuing.

"So we were in bed, right... and I just happened to fall asleep first. I don't remember what it was I dreamt about, but all of a sudden I felt a hard shove and when I came to Zoe was glaring daggers at me."

"'You slept with her, didn't you?' she accused. And before I even had a chance to respond she vehemently spit out how I'd called out your name in my sleep. And well, you know the rest."

I feel a little bit of a flush rising to my cheeks and I can't find the right words, so I offer up an apology instead.

"Nah, no need for that, love. You didn't do anything. At least anything that would've changed the inevitable. Me callin' out your name- that just gave her the physical proof she needed. I wager she realized from the moment she first laid eyes on you after you and I had met that things with me and her weren't going to end up happily ever after. She's not a deception expert, but we were together long enough to where she could gauge when something, or in this case, someone, had caught my interest and by how much. Even though she could see there was no possibility of hope, she still tried to cling to what we had in vain, y'know? What more could anyone in her position do? After all, Emily was still so young. I felt like a terrible husband and father- a total wanker. Up until that night in the office I had denied acting on whatever it was I was feeling for you, but as you probably already know that only made things worse. Either way things wouldn't have worked out between me and her. No matter how many times we tried, we just couldn't pretend anymore. I loved her, I really did, but it wasn't enough. It couldn't compete with the bond that was forming between me and you."

I'm not sure how I should feel about all of this. _Glad you've come to terms with everything in your own way..? That you didn't harbor any ill will towards me for what happened..?_ _That your feelings for me ran this deep..?_ But none of this comes without the price of me having to accept my fair share of the blame and the guilt must show on my face. _Had I not agreed to follow you, wouldn't the outcome have been different?_

"I regret not being truthful to you. You're so much better than me- you always have been. Even now, it's wrong of me to love you. And what struck absolute fear into my heart back then was the realization that you might love me back. And lately I haven't been able to face that you still might, because God knows I don't deserve you, Gillian. That if we keep pushing the boundaries like this, I won't be able to stop myself again." I watch your eyes fill with sadness at that last part, and I give you a solemn smile in return.

I slowly rise and round the desk, pulling up a chair beside you. "Is there any chance we'll ever make it right?" It's a pathetic question, but one I can't help asking. I want to believe that someday we'll both be okay.

"I don't have the answer for that one, love," you reply, and instead wrap your arms around me, pulling me in close. I fall into the familiar comfort of your embrace and we stay like that for some time, without exchanging anymore words.


	8. Chapter 8

It's been three days since Cal and I held each other in my office. More than just clinging on to the faint glimmer of hope that everything will somehow work itself out, I've come to the conclusion that it's only possible if we're able to release ourselves from the demons we've been holding onto first.

I stare up at the entrance of the church before me and the night sky hanging above it. I grew up with religion, but you could say it's a path I separated myself from over the years. Somewhere in my heart I want to believe in the existence of God; even more so now that you're no longer with me. It's a comforting thought that even if you never had the chance to know your own mother, there's a divine force out there somewhere watching over your soul.

Although I've grieved your loss for many years now, it's something I've personalized by holding it all inside of me. By not speaking your name the only judgment that came was self-inflicted. I thought I was strong for being able to carry everything alone for so long, but in reality I was too weak to let anybody else share in my pain. I've realized in the past week that true strength is shedding your pride and baring your imperfections to those close to you. For the first time ever I have the courage to offer myself up not only before you, but before God, and ask for redemption.

I press against the double doors to open them, carefully making sure they shut gently behind me as not to disturb the silence. I make my way between the rows and rows of pews towards the front, and remember that the last time I took this walk was with my father by my side and Alec waiting for me at the end of the aisle. The person that existed back then seems so unfamiliar to the person walking down this aisle now, and I wonder how it is I've changed so much. Taking off my high heels, I line them up beside me to my left and kneel in front of the altar. Then I join my hands together and lower my head to pray. I let these sentiments that have been welling up inside of me for too long overflow from my heart. They pour out into a single stream of words that form shapes on my lips, and I mouth them out in hopes that somewhere far away you can hear me.

_There are no excuses for the pain I caused you and the people I've hurt with my selfishness, but know that I loved you in more ways than you could ever imagine, and that you will always have a place in my heart. __I'll never be able to turn back time no matter how many tears I cry, so __I can only make you this promise, in front of God, that from this point onwards I'll focus on what lies ahead and live my life as best as I can for the both of us. I hope that one day I'm able to earn your forgiveness._

"Amen," I whisper, and slowly rise.


End file.
